


Crystal Veins

by Badsadspacedads (Kyloisadisneyprincess)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Coercion, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, almost every one lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyloisadisneyprincess/pseuds/Badsadspacedads
Summary: A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...Four years have passed since the disappearance of Galen Erso and his family but now the Empire has need of the brilliant scientist once again. The malevolent Governor Tarkin oversees Director Krennic's ongoing project, the Death Star and with the aid of a smuggler, Erso's location has finally been discovered. Eager to reclaim his genius Director Krennic embarks on a mission to the planet Lah'mu, while Tarkin patiently awaits their arrival in the starship Executrix above...





	1. Chapter 1

Tarkin stands on the bridge of the _Executrix_ watching Krennic’s obsolete shuttle streak towards the ringed planet below. Orson had insisted on overseeing this mission himself. The director had grown petulant of late, perhaps seeing an old friend would do him some good, _or..._ Tarkin mused, seeing him would upset Krennic’s volatile disposition enough for him to swoop in and gain control the man once again. Everything about Orson was hazardous, in need of containment, from his sleep mussed hair to his outsized ambitions. His obsession with Galen Erso was no different.

Tarkin had taken the scientist from him for that very reason. In an ordinary man, the denial would have led to acceptance. Instead, he watched Orson become more fevered and consumed by Erso’s absence with each passing month. The wound was aggravated every time  Orson’s team of lesser scientist failed to comprehend Erso’s formulas. Krennic starved on the scraps he’d been left with.

Tarkin would like to say that in the four years that followed Galen Ersos disappearance the director had learned something, patients, humility, any of the virtues he lacked. But even on a leash held by Tarkin’s steady hand, the director struggled. Strangling himself with his own flaws.

The scientist would be a different challenge, perhaps not one to Tarkin’s tastes if Orson’s obsession with him was anything to go by. Despite the frustration, Tarkin enjoyed Krennic. His quick quips and the fact that the director’s clever mouth knew how to tease at much more that political and command decisions. Galen Erso, on the other hand was rumored to be reserved to an extreme. Exact opposites: Krennic impulsive, passionate, and Erso: analytic. A deep thinker.  

An honest man, but hopefully a more finessed game than his wife was.

Lyra Erso, troublesome and relatively useless now that she was believed dead, was a vulgar card Tarkin hoped not to play. A headstrong woman, made no more palatable by time spent in one of Coruscant's high security prisons. He had considered bringing her along for a joyous reunion with her husband. However, with Krennics involvement that was inadvisable. The director was not of the required clearance level to know that she had survived the multi-story fall  taken while helping her husband and young child escape. The trooper that had lost his footing and pulled her over had broken her fall. He had not been so lucky, but the incompetent soldier’s blunder had granted Tarkin a powerful playing piece,  he would not call upon Lyra until he was certain not to need Orson, then she would be his leverage against Galen Erso.

If he even still needed it by the time Krennic was done with him. Maybe, in their dissonance one pawn would break the other for him.

Love tended to be a blunt instrument. One that had helped him finally get a straight answer out of the smuggler he used to distract Krennic while Galen and his young daughter escaped. His Dreselian girl friend had put up a good fight but in the end the smuggler had given in for his lover, true chivalry. It was almost a shame to do away with the happy couple. Tarkin thought he would never need to know who the smuggler had found to come to the Erso’s rescue or where they had ended up. And it loathed him to give the Ersos back to Krennic now.  All that had mattered a few years ago was that he remove Orson’s muse from the equation, but then the project had stalled.

Orson truly was just a useful mouth.

With that thought the exposed plating of Krennic’s shuttle flashed as it disappear into the daylight side of Lah’mu. It’s illuminated wings briefly remind him of Orson’s cape absurd cape. The showy addition to the uniform had not been prohibited but Tarkin considered it a mistake. Not only was it impractical, but it also had made it’s debut in Orson’s wardrobe shortly after Tarkin had established himself as the dominant party of their budding relationship. Orson was so clearly grasping at straws to re-cement his identity, his manhood. Pathetic, but if the cape made him feel strong why deny him the indulgence? Besides, the thing was as ephemeral as the sheets on their bed; easily stripped away any time Tarkin willed.

In time, Galen Erso would be ripped away from Krennic as well.

\---

 

Papa, was not a good farmer. Jyn could tell. The little green shoots growing in the field out front of their house were always falling over. But in the past few years, since they had to leave Mama, Jyn had never been hungry and never without something to do. The hills and beach around their home were an endless playground and Papa often accompanied her on many make believe adventures with Stormy, her trooper doll in white armor. Papa didn’t like stormy, not since he had caught her playing with him and a doll she’d made too look like Mama. She had been pushing them off their kitchen table, like she had seen mama and the trooper fall when they left their old home. She was just trying to understand what Papa wouldn’t explain to her. But the Mama doll had disappeared; Jyn learned that games shouldn’t seem too real.

Papa’s favorite game to play was hide and seek. He would chase Jyn, always to the same spot. At first she had squealed and laughed, sometimes papa would catch up to her and scoop her up, tickeling at her with his beard. That hadn’t happened as much lately. She was getting faster. Once, she had decided to try out a new hiding place, but papa had been worried until she had finally jumped out and surprised him. It was her turn to do the tickling!

But Papa hadn’t laughed. Somehow, his eyes were more sad than she had ever seen them before.

“Always hide in our spot Jyn.” He had paused to set her down and look into her eyes ”Can you promise to do that for me, stardust?” She had agreed.

After that, it hadn’t feel like a game anymore. But if ever she asked about it, Papa would get that sad look in his eyes. So, she had learned not to.

He wanted her to play again right now but this time was different.

She had run to the house when she heard it, almost like thunder but in a constant steady tone that only grew louder. A ship? Mama? Jyn had excitedly burst through the door of their home.

“I know” Papa says as he works on erasing his computer files, he was sad again. “ It’s time Jyn, get your things.”

She knows what to do. They had practiced this as well, on nights when neither of them could sleep. She grabs the box meals, a blanket and a few of her toys. _Oh no…_ she had left stormy outside.

“No time to go back.” Papa says sternly. “You know where to go?”

“Yes, Papa.” she answers.

“I’m going to give you a head start.” he breathes, he’s thinking as he looks into her eyes, Trying to locate the right thought.  “Whatever I do. I do it to protect you, understand?”

“I understand.” she parrots back to him before throwing her arms over his shoulders. He’s too big for her to fully embrace. But nothing stops Jyn Erso from trying. “I love you Papa.”

“I love you too, stardust.” He pulls her away from him and turns her toward the back door. “ Go.”

\---

 

Orson Krennic knew that he was not a patient man. His anxiety during the flight down to the planet’s surface confirmed that. Only the fact that he shared the ship with a squad of elite death troopers kept him from pacing. A calm, clear headed leader was a well respected one and he needed every man on this ship under his control today. It wouldn’t do to have anyone trigger happy. Galen and his daughter must be brought in alive.

They touchdown on a beach not far from the structure picked up on the _Executrixe’s_ scanners. In the distance it looks more like a domed hut than a house. There is a stretch of new crops between it and the beach. Poorly tended, their soft stems lean into each other. Funny, he had always imagined Galen as good at everything, minus a few known exceptions. Clearly Krennic was wrong.

A figure exits the house and strides towards his advancing line of death troopers. _Galen Erso, at last_.

Krennic calls out to him, ”You’re a hard man to find. Galen”

“That was the idea” Galen answers, ever blunt, he stands with one foot forward, _Expecting to fight?... or just attempting to look formidable?_ Galen was a tall strong man but Krennick had a squad of troopers and Galen’s nature had always been gentle. _Just posturing then._ Krennic knows he can undermine that, Galen has always been easily shamed, ever hungry for approval.

“But farming? A man of your talents? Krennic questions. Surly Galen realized how abysmal this place looked. _Had he even been able to properly feed the child? … Where is the child?_

“It’s a peaceful life” Galen counters. _With a rambunctious youngster? I think not, Galen._

“Lonely, I’d imagine.” Krennic replies. Galen needs to know that the child will be used to gain his compliance, if necessary.

“Yes, since Jyn died.” _another lie_ , Krennic can tell by looking at him, Galen is worn yes, dirty even, but he’s healthy. More fit that Krennic has ever seen him, perhaps there is something to be said for farming instead of long hours spent in on theory. The Galen he knew, the Galen that could barely stand after weeks of grieving for his parents, refusing to eat, would not have taken care of himself if the child had died. _That_ Galen would have no reason to sow this pitiful farm. But he’ll play along.

“Oh” Krennick winces lowering his head. “my condolences.” It doesn’t come out right, not while he is trying not to laugh at his friend's pitiful attempts to fool him. _not convincing enough, damn._

“What do you want?” Galen snaps he is more afraid than angry. _Well... if we are going to be forward._

“The work has stalled, I need you to come back” he says it like he’s just calling Galen away from a quiet lunch break. As if, Galen wasn’t a traitor that abandoned him to Tarkin and the slow grind of the Imperial machine. Because Galen.. _.Galen could never know about those things._ He resolves. Krennic will still protect him even if the favor is not returned.

“I won’t do it, Krennic.”

 _Of course not, Galen could never see the bigger picture._ He leans in “We were on the verge of greatness, Galen. We were _this_ close to providing peace and security to the galaxy.”

“You’re confusing peace with terror.”

 _Am I now?_ Krennic thinks, pulling himself back as if struck by Galen’s sincerity. What did Galen know of true terror? the very same Galen that he had rescued, whom he had coddled and protected… He shakes those thoughts from his head. They’re useless to him now. He’ll move on.

“Well, we have to start somewhere.” he declares. “Do it.” he motions to his second. Galen takes one step back, betrayal written all over his face. _The nerve of him._ The trooper raises his blaster, set to stun, and fires.

Erso hits the ground with a thud.

“Search the house. He has a child. Find it.” Krennic barks. Four of his guard break off towards the dome. Krennic turns to the remaining two, spares a glance at Galen’s unconscious body before speaking.

“Put Erso on board.”

Galen’s surprise had shifted his center of gravity leaving him lying in a the damp green shoots. _Always a soft bed for Him, at least this time it’s one he made himself._ The jealous part of his mind supplies. The rest whispers _He’s beautiful..._ Stray hairs lace his face. _Shame he won’t lie there long._ Neither train of thought can be denied.

The troopers carry him away. Beside where he had lain the dark earth is upturned a little; A small trench in which sits a single stormtrooper doll. Krennic looks around before picking it up. _Would the child come back for one lonely soldier?_ His mind gives a solid no. But still, he’d like to hope.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, we have to start somewhere.” Krennic declares. The look in his eyes tells Galen that some invisible line has been crossed. He’s seen that look on his friend's face before, when they were in the program. Orson never usually wears it without a bruised face or bloodied nose. All the force of his fists shine in his eyes now. What has Galen done now to finally bleed out Orson’s patients for him?

 “Do it.” Orson motions to his second. Galen takes one step back. _No, this is the part where he tries to lie to me, the part with too many stray touches, forced jokes._ Years ago Krennic would have grabbed him by the shoulders and made fun of his scruffy beard. That Krennic would have all but kissed him on the mouth. But they are not the same, not any more. Galen would have liked to talk more, if only to give Jyn extra time to get away.

The trooper raises his blaster, set to stun, and fires.

\---

She sees him hit the ground and knows she should have run like he said. Jyn is a good girl. She does what her father asks her to, most of the time and eventually, she always obeys. That habit doesn’t curb the wrongness she feels at running now. Her feet are wet from crouching between the muddied rows of plants. They feel cold and heavy but she makes it. The gray sky and rocks of her home feel absent as she lifts the hatch to the hiding spot. She stares down into the darkness before climbing in. What if she fell? 

She was never afraid of that before. The image bubbles up. Her Papa fell, his legs giving out from under him after the blast. She tries to go back to the beginning, to make him stand again. But all that's left is the green shoots, the gray sky and a white cloth fluttering in the wind. 

The troopers in black come and go. Their strange voices rattle mechanically above her. But they do not find her hiding place. Eventually, they leave and do not come back. Jyn climbs down from where she was perched at the top of the ladder and settles in to sleep.

As the daylight fades away from the little crack in the hatch she grows cold and takes to fiddling with a lantern. It’s power core is almost burned out but if she shakes it just right It will flicker awake. She imagines its warmth is her father's hands, taken into her small ones in the middle of the night when he is dreaming, some terrible dream. He calls for mama in a name Jyn has never used. She isn’t here with them, only Jyn.

_Only me._ She thinks. On nights like those Papa would take her in his arms when he woke.

She shakes the lantern and hopes to be there when she wakes up.

\---

 

Galen is still sleeping. Not really sleeping but it’s easier to think of it that way. Krennic indulges himself by not leaving his side. No one here on his shuttle is watching them, his troopers, loyal, avoided the small med birth that Galen occupies. It used to always be like this. Galen slept and woke at odd hours, forgoing sleep when the next problem was just too tantalizing to resist. Somehow he end up in Orson’s bunk, whenever a solution had been reached, eager to explain to his friend all the mysteries he had uncovered. 

That Galen never would have run from him.  _ Because I never gave him a reason to,  _ Krennic thinks. He wonders if he should have seen it coming, if Galens betrayal had been a sort of slow creep, untraceable even in its magnitude, like a forest outgrowing its borders. There had been the oaths, yes, but krennic had always thought of them as a final nudge  to get Galen to complete his research, not a restraint to keep him tied to the project. In hindsight, it all had been one selfish attempt at drawing Galen closer to himself. Who would the passionate researcher confide in now that his work was classified at the highest level? Not his wife. How convenient for Galen that _ he _ was around, a friend so close that they had shared a bed during their youth.  _ What was I thinking? That research findings would dissolve into love confessions? Scientific pillow talk? _ Krennic recognizes his own naivety but still something nags at him. _ It happened once. Why not again?  _

Don’t tell him the odds.

\---

Krennic’s shuttle was safely on board. His mission a marginal success. An unconscious scientist, a missing child, only Krennic could so easily botch a mission only one step up in complexity than a supply pickup. Tarkin waits in his meeting room for Krennic to deliver his report. The Director never shows.

He presses the comm on his desk. “Bridge, please report the whereabouts of Director Krennic.”

“Director Krennic is in the Medicenter, Sir.”  The officer supplies. 

“Injured?” he enquires.

“No, sir. He is with the prisoner.”  _ Of course. Nothing I’ve done has taught him to guard himself or his interests. _

“Thank you officer, that is all.” He clicks the comm off. 

If Krennic already felt he could dismiss Tarkin for Erso then it was clear he needed a reminder of the Grand Moff’s importance. More than once he had kept Krennic out of trouble, the delays on the project:  _ Diretor Krennic’s fault entirely, but do be patient with him my lord he’s only an architect _ . Why would he want to lose his willing scapegoat? Those favors had been returned promptly, some in kind others in a more base currency.  Krennic was so deeply invested in this project that he refused to acknowledge Tarkin’s looming presence and the steady concessions he forced on the Director. The last four years had been easy, playing Krennic like a puppet, but now he was set to get himself tangled up in Erso’s stings, if he wasn’t already. 

Those ties would be cut.

 

Tarkin wouldn’t just demand that Krennic return to him, he wasn’t entirely sure that the man would obey. Oh, but he would if Tarkin treated access to Erso as a privilege, something to be lost in the event that any of Krennic’s disrespectful or heavy handed behavior recurred. 

He opened the comm again.

“Medical?” 

“Medicenter, here Sir.”

“Advise me immediately when prisoner Erso regains consciousness.”

“Acknowledged, Sir.”

Erso would be just out of reach within his own sleep, a torture of Krennic’s own making. He’d let them have a few precious seconds before whisking Erso away and demanding that report. Just a taste of the reward before punishment. He hoped the time would come during off duty hours and give him a reason to admonish Krennic in the privacy of his quarters. 

\---

Galen is just starting to come around. He shift slightly on the medicenter bed. They’ve been on the  _ Executrix _ for a few standard hours now. Krennic belatedly thinks that his time to report to Tarkin is extremely overdue. The Moff would be off duty by now.  Perhaps he would postpone their meeting until next cycle. Orson didn’t want to leave Galen until he was settled in. A monitor beeps loudly as Galen’s brain activity shoots up. He stirs for real this time.

“I guess It’s no use pretending to be asleep” Galen mumbles. “Or better yet, dead.”

Galen had kept that last part under his breath but Orson heard him. Years of careful attention had made Krennic aware that Galen often precursed his true thoughts with stock phrases. Not that Galen had any trouble saying what was on his mind, He just  needed an familiar equation from which to draw his solutions before they crystallized, almost always into a single word.  _ Dead _ ,  _ Galen wants to die _ . Krennic expected a strong reaction, had known this was a possibility but hearing it and knowing that death is the focus of his friends ingenious mind shakes him.

“Don’t talk like that.” he snaps the phrase is out of his mouth before he can bite it back. There are better ones surely, ones that would give more comfort. But those would force Krennic to confront the reality he has place them in.  _ What have I done? _

He reaches out to move the strands of Galen’s too long hair away from his face. _ What a mess _ .Krennic wonders if he has broken Him, or if that had happened a long time ago. He sees Lyra’s body before it was removed for autopsy. Her hair laced with shards of white plasteel. 

He never wanted Lyra to die.

Galen is watching, considering him out of the corners of his eyes. So they’re not talking turns in this conversation? It’s not something Galen has ever been good at. The scientist was either silent or running over at the mouth, lips unable to contain the fire in his mind. Orson was constantly searching for the right game to play with him. They are wasting their first few minutes back together again like this,  _ damn it _ . Each unsure of the rules and what they have in hand.

The stalemate is broken when the doors so the medical suit spring open.  _ Tarkin. _

There’s always room to deal one more in.


	3. Chapter 3

Orson’s Posture changed upon the entrance of their new visitor. He held himself more upright his lips pressed into a solid line. Galen looks at the rank bars, two rows of four simple squares blue over red, Orson wears Red over blue…  _ Equals? But opposites?  _ Galen finds it hard to think of the thin man who contemplates them as the kinder, truthful version of Orson Krennic. The severe expression that seems to be moulded onto his face is at once disapproving and disinterested. This man cares even less about him than Orson does. 

“Grand Moff, as you can see Doctor Erso is unharmed and in stable condition. We were just beginning to discuss the terms of his work. In fact his proposal is quite humble. He needs only a facility, supplies, a promise of a continued search for his daughter…”

The Moff holds out a single hand to cease Orsons rambling. No such terms have been discussed and Galen hopes that they never find Jyn. The pacing stranger comes to a pause behind the chair Orson is seated in. Galen sees him struggling not to turn, doing so would give away his urge to protect his back. Orson swallows, the motion coupled with the blankness of his face puts Galen even more on edge than he had been. He looks up to stare the other man down.

“I am uncertain that the prisoner looks entirely convinced.” The voice is shrill, more finely accented than Orson’s. Galen fights the urge to look away.

Orson does turn now, “He has assured me…” he begins.

“Of what? His cooperation? I think not, considering you had to drag him here, Director.” he enunciates Orson’s title with a sneer. His hand reaches for the comm pad on the wall.

“Security, have a squad sent to deliver prisoner Erso to the detention level for questioning.”

“What?! He’s our guest you can’t” 

“He is my guest on my ship as are you Director.” The Moff defines in a clipped tone “Thank you, for delivering him.”

The security squad enters and forces Galen to his feet. Clearly, Orson can’t protect him, but he tries to stand any way. One of the Moff’s booted feet comes to rest at the back of the chair leg sending it a few inches forward. It hits the back of Orson’s knees and he is forcibly seated again. The moff’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Orson looks at Galen out of the corner of his eye, shamed. There is something there that Galen thought he would never see.

_ Fear. Maybe even an apology? _

As He’s ushered out the door Galen glances back long enough to notice one skeletal hand stroke over the back of Orson’s neck.

\---

“I expect you in my quarters with your full report in fifteen minutes” Tarkin states.

“Yes Sir.” Krennic responds through his teeth. He waits for Tarkin to release the chair and turn toward the door before standing. He grasps firmly at the hem of his uniform, straightening it. He draws himself upright and calls “But I must object to your decision to send him to the detention level.”

Tarkin's step does not falter and he does not give Krennic the honor of looking at him.  

“Save It for your report, Director.”

\---

The detention level is cold. The troopers march Galen past endless rows of sunken cells before throwing him into one.  He tumbles down the steps and hits his head on the grated floor. Groaning, He pulls himself up and sits on the small bench. Orson had lied to the moff, Galen might be able to continue with that lie for a while.  

_How does Orson do it?_ He wonders. Orson had danced around Galen’s questions numerous times. How did he keep his fictions straight?  The last time he had visited Galen’s lab on Coruscant, the very same night that Galen had take his family and ran, Orson had not spoken one true word after his greeting. How had he still seemed so hospitable? The only thing Galen can make dance are the numbers in his own head. Those are sure to not get him far with people, or the interrogator that is surely coming to question him.

He’d have to submit, but not quickly. It had to look real. If he could pull it off he might be able to save some of his secrets, still might be able to save Jyn.

\---

If he does this right he still might be able to save Galen. Krennic pauses before hitting the chime on Tarkin's door. 

“Enter” a voice calls from within. Krennic wants nothing more than to run. He moves inside stopping before Tarkin's desk. The Moff, stretched out in his chair, is consumed with a data pad.

“The operation on Lah’mu…” Krennic begins.

“Stop.” Tarkin commands “I am far more interested in your choice to act insubordinately in front of the prisoner in med bay. Your troops have already provided me all the mundane details of your excursion and in a timely fashion.” He gestures placing the pad pointedly on his desk.

“I spoke against you because I must contest your…”

“You have already told me what. Tell me why.” Tarkin demands cutting Krennic short again. 

“Galen Erso responds best to a gentle hand” Krennic supplies. 

“Oh? and when you made up his modest terms for him was that gentle?” Tarkin always catches him at his lies. “In truth I’m more concerned for you. Than Erso” Tarkin elaborates “I only want what's best for you. This obsession isn't healthy. Remember what it did to you when he left. The traitor doesn't deserve this kindness from you. This is a childhood infatuation.” the stream of accusations almost breaks Krennic’s resolve. 

“Erso doesn’t know” Krennic forces himself to sound detatched. “Let me, I know how to handle him.”

“I know that you do but who will hold your leash?” Krennic inhales sharply “Come here,” Tarkin beckons. Orson shuffles to Tarkin’s side. There is a hand first on his knee, then on his thigh, slowly moving to cup him through his pants. “Haven’t I taken care of you?”  The tone of the phrase is enough to prompt Krennic and he goes easily to his knees. Tarkin cradles his head in one hand and his eyes leave krennic’s to stare, unaffected, out of the view port. Krennic nuzzles at the growing hardness between his legs but Tarkin’s eyes are drawn back only at the loosening of his trousers. He’s in no hurry. His gaze trails from the view port to the contrast of Krennic’s the white cape intertwined with the dirty soles of his boots. Dark sand still gritters in the treads of them, each particle briefly captures the hyper space lights. He cards through the soft hair in response to the first stroke of Krennic’s tongue. He looks at the face between his thighs. Blue eyes flash with defiance, something Orson has not displayed outright in a long while. It’s refreshing to play with lively prey again, here he thought the Director was starting to go cold.

“I often wonder if you ever left you boyhood behind” Tarkin muses, thinking about the Director tracking dirt all over his ship. Krennic hums around his cock.  _ Is it an insult or praise?  _ Krennic seems to take it as a nod to his appetite, and as a challenge. The greedy mouth works even harder over his flesh.

Tarkin tightens his hand into a fist in Krennic’s Hair. He was losing control of this one. Time to get started on the alternative.

 

\---

Tarkin does permit him access to Galen. Krennic has him moved to proper quarters, guarded, but still, there's a bed, fresher and a small living space with enough room to stretch out fully. Galen was making use of the amenities when he arrived. The rags he had worn on Lah’mu are carelessly heaped on the floor. Krennic picks them up to dispose of them. He notes the blood, only a little, spotted across one of the sleeves. He hears the fresher click off, and throws the bundle into the rubbish chute.  

Not wanting to startle Galen, or come across as an intruder Krennic calls out in the direction of the fresher. “I took the liberty of having some of your clothes brought here from your old apartment.” There is no reply. “Galen?” He tries again.

“I noticed.” his voice echos through the door.

What was Krennic expecting? A thank you? “ It’s always nice to have something that fits.” Krennic tries. He hasn’t had to make small talk with Galen in years but that seems to be where they are at.

Galen finally steps out of the fresher. The clothes don’t fit and there’s a gash on his forehead, Krennic will have to have a word with Tarkin again about gentle hands. Galen has grown gaunt during the years that they were separated. The garments hang loosely on his frame. Krennic laments, only for an instant, he had always enjoyed kneading at the slight softness of Galen’s body. He shakes the fantasy loose, and takes up practicality in exchange.

“You look hungry.” he suggests it’s just a start on a laundry list of things that need to be fixed, that hair for instance is surely matted, and while Krennic likes the beard, It’s unkempt and not regulation. He wishes briefly that a few hygene changes would also take that doleful look out of his friend’s eyes. 

He orders them meals and pours Galen a cup of caf. All the while Galen silently sits on the couch, refusing to speak even when prompted. Krennic grows agitated.  _ This is a step down from small talk _ . He needs to do something to provoke a response, if just to reassure himself that Galen hasn’t broken entirely. _ Aha! The doll _ . He lifts himself up from the chair to retrieve it. When he comes back he plops down next to his friend without preamble and places the limp thing in his fingers. There is a gulp, a nervous flicker of his eyelids. Krennic takes it as a good sign.

“We’ll have Jyn back to you soon.” he reassures Krennic doesn’t quite know what it feels like, to have lost a child. But it must be like the anxiety of misplacing some important schematics, something vital to the structure of Galen’s life. Maybe…it’s like  _ How I felt when he ran. Betrayal aside.  _ Or maybe not, he’s not quite sure who lost who anymore.

Galen’s fist clenches around the white cylinder of the toy trooper’s body and turns to look at him, eyes wet.

“Let’s get you cleaned up now, shall we?”

\---

Orson can't understand the horrors he's faced with when presented with the doll. He knows he's supposed to be reminded of Jyn, still out there somewhere. But it's Lyra he sees, that single unbalanced moment her dark hair in contrast with the gleaming white armor. He remembers the the updraft coming from the chasm playing at the strands. And then they fell and fell and landed on the floor below their kitchen table on Lah'mu with Jyn’s soft pink mouth sputtering appropriate sound effects.

Jyn hadn't meant it. She couldn't have understood, not when he was silent on the matter. He had taken the doll Lyra and buried her. He wonders if his wife has a real grave, something better than the child's play he used for closure. He laughs at the absurdity of himself and Orson looks at him in genuine concern. He feels unhinged. For a while after the mock burial he thought he should have included Jyn when he'd done it. But he couldn't bear to touch her with a ritual so dark, not his stardust. He hopes that where ever she is, she still shines bright.

Orson is done cutting his hair now after giving him ‘a precursory trim to weed out the mats’ and promising to get him a proper cut in the morning, He’s certain he looks mad. Now Orson is shaving him, a strange intimacy that they have shared before, once, when Galen had broken his arm in a trivial fist fight. He sneaks glances at Orson as he concentrates on not nicking the curve of his jaw. The blue eyes are almost too close to focus on. The vibrance of them is striking as the bright fresher lights force Orson’s pupils to constrict. 

“I…” Galen starts before remembering that there is a blade dangerously close to his neck. Orson pulls back.

“Don’t stop now,” He teases “You’ve picked a most convenient time to conversate.” There is laughter in his eyes, and a sureness.  _ It’s just like Galen to expect the galaxy to stop and convenience him.  _ Krennic is slightly proud to have been the one to make it seem so. Galen considers his words for a moment.

“Orson, who is in charge here?” he asks.

Krennic is tempted to blurt out  _ You _ . But he knows that the question is more of a request. _ He’s thinking of Tarkin, he’s thinking of the interrogator.  _ The illusion of power that Krennic has worked so hard to build is crumbling. “I am in charge of our project but I report to the Moff who reports directly to the Emperor.”  

“I have a request, Before we begin the work.” Galen states. 

Orson’s eyes widen, supprised at his acceptance.“Tell me, I’ll see what I can do.”


	4. Chapter 4

Galen’s request had not been easy to fulfil, impossible actually.  However, Orson was seasoned at bending the facts. More seasoned than he was at finding them. Lyra Erso’s trail was absent from all government and medical records. As far as he knew she fell off that bridge into non-existence. He’d pulled favors, and even took out a few I owe yous to get to the bottom of this, all with no luck. 

There was no death certificate, no autopsy, not even an incident report from that night. More than just clerical error. He had assumed at first that there had just been a cover up of her death, to save the facade that all departments of the project were working under. But the changes extended even further. All record of Lyra’s marriage to Galen was gone. The child didn’t exist. According to the facts Lyra had gone missing during a surveying job and had never been recovered. It was neat, no body to account for, no relation to the project, and all close friends and family who could deny the story had conveniently fallen of the radar. 

Except for Orson. 

_ Tarkin. He did this. Why? Surely he knew a galaxy in which Galen and Lyra had never met would be my dream,  _ Orson thinks unabashedly.   _ But what good what does that get him? Galen knows none of this is true. Unless… No... No no no no no.  _ Orson stops in his tracks. He feels simultaneously crushed and overjoyed. If it was true, If he could give Galen that!

How would he break the news? Would Galen beleive him after all that’s happened? Orson is so lost in the possibility,  _ I Galen Erso’s savior once again.  _  He hardly notices the soft click of boots behind him

“Director,” Tarkin’s sharp voice cuts into his thoughts.  

“Grand Moff,” Krennic snaps. He’s doing ths all wrong, if the very nature of erso’s request doesn’t alert tarkin to his findings then his tone will. He smiles and force the cordiality back into his voice “ I was just coming to deliver these request forms to your office.”

“Delivering forms? Having trouble finding personnel to run your errands?” Tarkin quipps

“No, no I just think these forms are of too sensitive a nature to just be passed along.” 

“Realy? We shall see.” Tarkin extends his hand to take the data pad. His eyes scan document. Krennic watches intently for any cues. The pad is returned. Tarkins arms come to rest behind him. His hands neatly clasped together.

“Director Krennic, would you join me for a drink?”

“But of course.” 

Orson has a Bad feeling about this.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Lyra has a grave. There is something pacifying about being able to know that she does.  _ Galen thinks.  _ It’s far from closure, but it’s something.  _

Orson had visited earlier to get his signature on the request form so they could visit her.  _ I’m going to see my wife again.  _ He doesn’t know what he’ll do when they get there. To break down and cry would only give Krennic the opening he wants. Galen can’t let that happen. All the same he needs to do this, needs to know she’s resting well. 

Lyra’s mother had passed during the time he was hiding on lah’mu. Orson had arranged for a plot beside her. Lyra would have wanted to be with family. Galen stares into the dark void of space and wonders about Jyn and where she is. It hurts.  _ Who’s going to braid her hair? Or read to her? Does she even have books? What if she doesn't get to study or go to school? What is Saw Guerra like? What will he teach her? Is he kind? Will she be happy?  _

There are endless questions and yet the best thing for Jyn is if he never knows,

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarkin needs to be certain how much Krennic knows. Enough to realize that he’ll have to pass off an empty grave to keep Dr. Erso happy, yes. But how much more? He takes out two glasses but pours only one before returning the bottle to it’s place.

“ This request is very personal,” Tarkin admits. Glancing at the pad Krennic laid on the table. He needs to appear favorable to this little excursion if he’s going to get any where. And if he does, maybe he’ll just grant the directors request. “Did Erso as you to accompany him on such an intimate occasion?”

Krennic removes his gloves before reaching for the glass “No, just I wanted to check that the arrangements were carried out to the correct specifications, is all. And well if He’s going and I’m going why take two shuttles?” Krennic smiles nervously before taking a gulp. “ This really is lovely, what year…”

Tarkin might as well have rolled his eyes “Orson, as glad as I am that your logic is functioning, I have to question your ‘heavy handed’ approach to this relationship.”

Krennic exhales sharply.“Galen is an old friend. Seeing that his wife is properly laid to rest is the least I could do.”

“And is she?” Tracking probes. 

Krennic meets his eyes.“I’m not quite sure what you mean” He states sarcasticly.

“Is she laid to rest?” he responds forcefully.

“Emotionally.. No. But I hope that this trip will rectify that.” 

_ He knows he wasn’t convincing so why dance around the question?  _ Tarkin thinks. Time for a change of strategy

“What, So you can pitty fuck him over her grave stone?”This grants a visceral reaction from Krennic. “ Come now, It wouldn’t be that much disrespect would it? Seeing how it’s little more than an empty patch of dirt.” He looks away and pulls his arms in close hands clamped around the half empty glass.

“ I don’t know what your talking about.” He repeats, though with much less confidence.

“I think you do.” Tarkin leans in takes the glass in hand with his left and places his right at the juncture of Krennic’s neck and shoulder “Rest assured that If you tell him I will make sure he knows it was your idea. That it was your price. That your own selfish lust for him made you keep her a secret.” He speaks in a low calm tone while thumbing the exposed skin above the directors collar. 

Krennic swallows. 

“And one more thing director.” He adds while flicking the capes fastenings undone,  “Strip.”

Krennic flinches at the sound of the white fabric crumpling on the floor. He hesitates a moment too long.

“Come now Director,” Tarkin jokes while striding easily towards the bedroom. “Don’t think you’ll be enough for him when I’m done?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orson told him to take as long as he wants but Galen doesn’t think he will ever be done. The grave is simple. Lyra is beside her family. That’s all he wanted, wasn’t it? He stands there and  stares at the marker. They didn’t give Lyra his name and there is no date. Most likely because of security concerns but it kills him to be here, above the grave of his wife and feel that he is visiting a stranger. Emptiness threatens to swallow him from the inside.  

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m so hungry it’s like my stomach is trying to eat me alive!”

“I think that’s the idea.”

Lyra doesn’t look up at her friend sitting down across from her. The bustle of the prison cafeteria is enough for her in the morning without Nari’s chipper attitude. 

“Oh,Gloomy.” Nari tries while knocking their knees together under the table.

Lyra forces a smile as she scrapes the remainder of her gray nutrient paste out of her bowl. It’s been two years since she last saw Galen and Jyn. Nari hasn’t been here as long. She was only just snagged up after her last expedition. She’s still high on new discovery. Lyra remembers having her optimism and as grateful as she is to have one of her best friends, Lyra knows that this is in some cruel way her fault. Nari gives her a weak mouth half full smile back before swallowing.

“When I was on Kashyyyk” Nari starts, “We visited the under-forest. It was dark down there no matter what time of day.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lyra asks, she wishes she had the strength to not be so harsh. 

“Because when you went up in the lift and got back to civilization it made you realize that... “ A toppless sullustan runs by thier table screetshing something indecernable. “Nope, nevermind, civilization did this.” Nari cuts herself off before shoving her mouth too full once again. Lyra chuckles, and half forget her despair until a voice sounds off behind her.

“Prisoner Erso, stand.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t his desire to drive his underlings to despair. On the contrary Tarkin liked to think of himself as a motivator, a handler if need be, providing incentives that made the Empire run smoothly. Prisoner 2187 is one such incentive. Tarkin views her through one way transparisteel. A thin woman, dark hair going prematurely gray with a firmly set mouth and delicate jaw; witty and persistent if what Krennic said of her was true. 

“Suspend surveillance.” Tarkin commands. He enters and her sharp dark eyes are on him now, assessing. 

“Prisoner 2187 Erso, Lyra. Wife of noted scientist Galen Erso. Correct?”

“Why am I..”

“Is that correct!?” He glowers down at her.

“Yes.” she looks back up at him. “Yes,Sir.”

“And your last contact with your husband?” He raises his eyebrows a hair,  _ Eye contact?  _ He circles behind her, forcing her to look away. Thier eyes meet again in the mirror. This way, she can see herself, so small next to him.

“Two years.” She answers turning to her right. She expects him to complete the circle.

“And you reason for trying to leave coruscant? his whereabouts?” At this lyra twists around into her chair to look at him.

“We’ve already been over this. There was no sabotage and no escape plan.” Lyra answers in a clipped tone.”I don’t know where he is.”

“Or even if he is,” He has her attention now ”Until today.” He places a data pad down on the table beside her, She glances at in furtively before returning her empty gaze toward the mirror. He leans down.

“Lyra, if you can assure me that you will cooperate, I can guarantee that you will be with your husband again.”

If he can get her to hope, that’s all he needs.

_Galen is on Aria Prime._ Her homeworld, Lyra can tell from the images. Tarkin reaches down to scroll through them. How can she know that they are real, and if they are who knows what will they force Galen to do if they are together?

“Within the hour if you are so inclined.” Lyra know that he’s tempting her. She can’t give in. She won’t allow it.

Lyra reaches for the pad with both hands, feigns tenderness. It’s easy to do. She’s trembling.  A sudden jolt to the left and her hands are clasped over one of Tarkin’s. She presses down with her left while yanking his weakest two fingers with her right. An audible snap sounds through the room followed by a loud slap. Flung from her chair Lyra crouches on the floor near the leg of the table.

“Very well then, It’s not as though other incentives are necessary for Dr.Erso.” 

As the Moff removes the pad from the table she sees it, the flash of a white uniform. Orson Krennic. Enraged Lyra throws herself toward the door, following Tarkin. Only to be pulled back by a pair of entering troopers. She feels her face swelling where she was hit, tries to bite back the tears.  _ Galen is alive.  _ Galen hadn’t come for her.  _ Galen was with him.  _ There was no sign or mention of Jyn. The image of Galen and Krennic together burns in her brain they were too close, they were touching, it was afectionate, it was reciprocated. She hangs her head,  _ It’s over isn’t it? _ , if she was to continue on like this then their family was dead to her. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erso’s wife is released back into the bowels of the prison. _ The medical service here is so meager. _ Tarkin thinks, cradeling his hand, as he watches her through the surveillance station. 

She moves like a person resigned.

“Stop.” Tarkin demands. The feed pauses. Another human woman about the same age darts toward her, hand outstretched. The concern is palpable even in the still image. “Who is that with her?”

“Prisoner Nari Sable, Sir. A close friend.”

“She’ll do.”

Some graves dug are real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! my apologies for the long wait on this chapter. I had a concussion and everything not essential kinda got kicked to the curb. Anyways, I'm doing better now!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr @badsadspacedads


	5. Chapter 5

Nari Sable died for Lyra’s insolence. Her only crime: expendability. Unfortunately,Tarkin can’t say the same for Galen and Krennic, yet. Of the two, Krennic would more swiftly outlive his use. In the grand scheme of the project, the director is only an enabler, a visionary. But after a vision becomes reality… well. 

If he wishes to use Krennic as incentive for Galen then he must first make an opportunity for Krennic to worm his way back into the scientist’s heart.  _ The Director must believe it is his idea… Only then will I be able to get inside Erso’s  oh so valuable head. _

“Grand Moff!” Krennic enters with his cape swishing behind him “You are looking ever so well today.  And f I might add, even more crooked than usual.” gestures to Tarkin’s broken hand. Despite his private subdual the director maintained a strong facade of pompousness. Tarkin hoped Krennic would learn to curb his pettiness as each slight he visited on the Grand Moff would be repaid. 

“Director, I would like for you to oversee preparations for Dr. Erso to be transfered to one of our secure planetary facilities.” Tarkin waits for the response, anger surely would be appropriate. Krennic has never been good at curbing himself.

“Is that wise?” He questions. Tarkin laces his fingers together and leans back.

“And why would it be unwise?”

“The project is here, Dr. Erso’s input…”

“Is not necessary. As he is only responsible for the development of the weapon.” Tarkin reminds. “The facilities on one of our planetary installations would be better equipped for research than a star destroyer. Do you disagree?”

“No, Grand Moff.”

“You will inquire as to what Dr. Erso needs in a facility and report the specifications back to me.” Krennic is silent. “That will be all.” Tarkin Dismisses him with a wave of his hand. The Director does not move.

“You will not take him from me.” Krennic growls. Tarkin stares amused into Krennic’s blue eyes. 

“Do you honestly think that he’s yours?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ He will not take Galen from me.  _ Krennic thinks as he storms down the hall.  _ His genius and my vision are all that is holding this project together! Curse Tarkin and his games. He’s always meddling, touching what isn’t his. _

Krennic is glad he finally found a place where his crooked touch is not accepted. Broken fingers suit the Grand Moff.  He would like to commend whoever did it, if they’re still among the living. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lyra is sure she’s lucky to be alive but that doesn’t mean she has to be grateful. She lays awake at night. Since Nari was found dead there has only been the dreams. Sometimes she sees Galen or Jyn or her mother. But always there is a sealed hatch. It will be at the dead end of a tunnel when she is trying to escape, or it's what she lands on after she falls from that bridge over and over again. Or worse She sees Jyn just on the other side closing it, locking her in no matter how loudly she screams.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He is standing over Lyra’s grave only it’s not her grave, can’t be he hears the waves sees the black soil of lahmu under his boots. Galen Holds Jyn’s tiny hands in his, her fingernails caked with dirt he looks at her and her face is Lyra’s. She runs from him and he follows the shimmering stalks of sky-corn are made of kyber they slice at his arms and face but he runs. The sky collapsing into a room draped in white there is a door, round. Jyn is fiddling with the lock crying. 

“Papa, It won’t open.” she turns to him her eyes icy blue and wet with tears 

“Stardust…” He steps toward her and she shatters like glass.

“Galen, Galen!”  Krennic shouts shaking him awake. “It wasn’t real.”  He says but there is concern in his voice.  Galen sits up, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed and heads to the fresher. He runs cold water, leans over the sink. 

“Why are you in my room.” He snaps. There’s no way Krennic could have heard him if there wasn’t surveillance. “It’s late, and you’re a mess.”  

Krennic stutters fingers flying to clasp his uniform jacket closed and straighten his hair. He looks indignant. 

“I’m not the one calling out nonsense in my sleep.” He retorts.

Galen only huffs he has nothing left to lose. 

“If you’re going to spy on me you might as well stay the night.” Galen suggests, He doesn’t want to sleep. Krennic gulps back his surprise. 

“Then I’ll stay” He replies. Galen will be leaving in the morning for his permanent assignment. He better make his move now.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

”I can’t stay to see you settled.” Krennic shouts over the rain.  “I apologize for the sad character of the place! Are you sure you’ll be alright here?!” 

“This is the facility we agreed on Krennic. Don’t go changing your mind now!” Galen shouts back.

Eadu had to be the most depressing planet in the galaxy. Even kamino with its hovering cities had something on it. And yet he will leave Galen here, with nothing but their correspondence, a visit every few months, and little gifts sent discreetly. Wine from Naboo, a bioluminescent plant from Fellucia, Trinkets of all types that filter into Coruscant from the Empire’s latest conquests. History datacrons from the royal palace of Lassan. Anything with a mystery for Galen to solve. 

They are growing old, not entirely together. But certainly not apart. They have no secrets. 

Except one.

He found Jyn. It’s been tricky to keep up with her aliases but easy enough to spot her. All Lyra, except for her eyes . Krennic swears   He’ll make sure she’s safe from Tarkin. He has already failed to find Lyra. He can’t afford to lose Galen.  But the child, he can’t, won’t, bring her into this. When this is over, when the Emperor recognizes his work and casts Tarkin aside. Then he will be the one to reunite the Erso family. He will be Galen’s savior once more.  

If only it were so.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Krennic, _

_ I have learned—from our stationed cargo pilot, Bodhi Rook, who has brought your deliveries to me on three separate occasions so far—that you are, in his words, “in demand” _ **_( As you always are)_ ** _ on the battlestation. As luck would have it, I can see a bit the landing pad from the small window in my room— _ **_my cell, really_ ** _ —though I have to perch myself precariously on stool I set upon my desk, it is a relatively worthless endeavor with the meager light that makes it through of Eadu’s disheartening clouds. Even so, I try to imagine Your ship landing and hope that you have reason from time to time to visit me here on this world which must be so droll compared to your new station,. Your presence would lighten my dim cubicle  _ **_(or it would stoke the boiling anger I hold for you, that strikes at the sight of your face. It would keep me warmer at night.)_ **

The thought is on the page before Galen know he has had it. And it frightens him to know how close his rage is to the surface. He need’s it to stay hidden inside of him. He laughs at himself, the anger is not unlike the trap he has laid. He continues Recalling the format, focusing on anything that lies outside realm of his mind.

_ As rooms go mine isn’t too bad. It’s remarkable The lengths you’ve gone to to make this place hospitable, and this room, this entire building really, is about as impressive an example of functional architecture as I’ve seen anywhere offworld. The walls are thick, which I am grateful for as it keeps out  most of the damp and the cold. The economy of them left raw and unadorned, reminds me of the exterior of your ship. You have yet to get rid of that thing after all these Years. Is it the Aesthetic of it?  _ **_(it’s how I knew when you came for me)_ **

And why Jyn had time to get away. It was a mistake to think of her while he is trying to do this. He feels the pain creeping into his chest. Or maybe bursting out of it. These thoughts are a built in self destruct. He needs to contain himself. He can’t. he wants Krennic to know, to feel every bit of this cushing pressure.

_ There are, of course, the security fields that seal me inside, the dim light, and the daytime puddles tracked in from out of doors near the exits. When the sun plunges at night I almost feel strangled by the darkness. I have, though, discovered Some interesting shapes, in the arrangement of the shadows that fall across my bedroom floor when I leave the lights on before bed in the evening, some of which I include here for your amusement. Plus I have been running all make and manner of calculations in my head. The strict routine enforced here is allowing me to make a lot of headway.  _ **_( Kriff I sound deranged, there is no way this will work to send to him.)_ **

Maybe with a change of subject?

_ But enough about me and my predicament. _

_ Pilot Rook has also assured me that you look well, but how can I know for sure? Your remark about that field trip during our program days stirred many recollections of that expedition, and how crucial your knowledge of the culture was to our success. Can you recall the bustle of that market as lucidly as I can—the vendors, the smells, the extraordinary color and motion of it all? We have had some times, haven’t we; some amazing experiences. Adventures! And just as we’ve always managed to figure our way out of tight spots, we’ll get through this one.   _

Maybe that would do.  He just has cabin fever, is craving stimulation. But Galen knows that doesn’t sound like himself. Krennic would never buy it. Galen would sooner say he wanted to go to a party.  _ I don’t even celebrate my own birth day for Kriffs sake,  _ He thinks. Galen Takes his head in both hands. Orson’s right He can’t lie. 

He’ll Try apologizing.

_ I take full responsibility for this imbroglio—unlike that trip I mentioned above, which really wasn’t my fault. (I will also lay the blame on that cheap translator droid you borrowed.) You were reluctant to place me here and in retrospect I should have listened to you. It was only a matter of time for this place to wear on me, and I should have seen that coming. Well, perhaps I did and simply refused to acknowledge it. For the research, of course, and—you have to admit—we have made some lasting improvements these past years. Then there is the crystal research itself, and the discoveries the team has made. We’re onto something; I can feel it. There’s no telling at this point what the limits are: power enough to supply enriched and renewable energy for entire continents, certainly. Perhaps for entire worlds. I do ache to get back to my original intent for the work. Research is the only thing I’m good at. I’m determined to provide you with what you need for our monstrosity of a child. But I lament that peace seems a long shot just now. _

Galen thinks he’s done well with that one, mostly truth with a few omissions. But the rest of the letter is rubbish any way. So why stop now. He continues, Changing the subject again.

_ But enough about me again! _

_ What I really ache to do is hold you  _ **_(Read strangle)_ ** _ , and I will do whatever I must to be with you again  _ **_(I want to be sure no one else has done it for me, you surely have many enemies.)_ ** _ Pilot Rook has said over and over that you plan on visiting. It is contingent merely on the arrival of a break though, yes? that you be needed more here than there.  After all this is done, can we go back to living as we were all those years ago?  _ **_(Our young heads spinning on new wonders and too much booze?)_ ** _ And this is where I have to ask you: What would be your terms?  _ **_(How many atrocities do I have to commit before you're through with me?)_ ** _ I will do whatever it is—for your sake, for the sake of our partnership. _

Galen means that bit too. He will work, if only to undermine each of Krennic’s destructive efforts. It has always been a balancing act between them. He had never expected Krennic to be the one to pull him under.

_ You need only say the word.   _ He adds. 

**_Director._ **

_ Take solace in the fact that my mind remains free—to dwell on you from afar. Until we are together once more.  All my  _ **_loathing._ **

_ Sincerely, _

_ Galen Erso _

 

Galen slams his chair away from his desk. Stands and paces briefly before returning to delete the message. He hesitates, He can’t do it, the thoughts are loud inside he head the lies jumbling together with the truths. In one motion he sweeps every item of of his desk. Flimsies fly, a few things shatter. That would give him something for his hands to do, his mind should be involved as well, if he doesn't want to get hurt. Defeatedly, he sinks down to start work on the mess. It would feel good to put something in order.  In his distraction he misses the little blinking confirmation. 

 

_ Message to Director Orson Krennic:  _ **_Sent_ **

 

Galen still can’t sleep. He isn’t having nightmares not really. He can’t exactly call the images of Orson’s soft limbs stretched out across his bunk a ‘nightmare.’ But he’s unnerved all the same. 

They are young in the dreams. Galen feels it from the smile on his face, the absence of the worry creases that will develop over the next few decades. He recognizes the dorm of the futures program on Brentaal. His friend’s thin undershirt rides up as he stretches his arms before laying down.  _ His friend. _

Orson’s trousers hang far to low on his hips. The skin there is dappled with finger tip sized bruises. Galen’s own hair hangs wet over his eyes, still damp from the shower. Orson sits up, brushes it away with his fingers.  _ His special friend. _

“We just got clean.” Galen hears his own disembodied voice protest. But everything is hazy, golden like sunlight. And Orson fits too well in his lap to be unseated. Galen feels warm, it’s too good to let go. Everything is on fire except for Orson’s cool blue eyes. Their bodies are flush and dripping as Orson pushes him down, panting. They are so close.

Galen wakes to the thrum of falling rain and the world is gray. 

Jyn is an adult now if she is even still alive and Galen is in the same situation as he was at her birth. Locked away. The prison he had been in on Vallt during the clone war had at least been less steril. He smiles remembering the little sketches he made of the moss growing in his cell, How they looked like faces, How he sent them to Lyra in hopes that they would lift her spirits. 

He wonders what the weather's like where Jyn is. He rolls over and tries not to think of her. The project is almost completed, there is nothing planned for his life beyond this. It feels like the walls of his room are closing in. The thrum of the rain amplified by the cavernous darkness. He needs out. He need to feel something other than emptiness. 


	6. Chapter 6

“What do you mean Dr. Erso isn’t here?!”

Galen’s message had been disturbing and now this. Yes, it had been a long time since their last meeting but Krennic had believed he had left Galen happy, or at least satisfied. 

“What was his last known location?” Krennic forces himself to become calm. A frantic and frightened staff would be of less use to him. He’ll get no answers if everyone feels the need to keep their heads down. 

“I saw him.” a technician speaks up. “He was headed for the west emergency exit.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Galen keeps his head down he can just make out where his feet will land. He’s long past caring about the rain stinging his eyes or the squelching of his soaked shoes. He feels both cold and extremely warm but it’s good to feel something. The endless roaring of the wind and rain drown out all of his anxiety. There is nothing but darkness between the cliffs and spires of Eadu. No sterile gray and white walls to box him in. 

He looses his footing and slips, feels his hands connect with the crumbling rocks of this prison-planet’s surface. Vaguely, he realizes that he’s hurt. The gravel itches in his palms and he’s torn his uniform, skinned a knee like a child. The absurdity of this, his physical state and location hit him. He has no plan, no way of knowing which way he came from or if anyone else will be able to find him. He lies back, defeated. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Krennic’s troopers are better outfitted to search for Galen in this weather. Nonetheless he takes off into the downpour to find his friend. His squad fans out. Galen could have fallen to this death or drowned in one of Eadu’s natural wells but Krennic’s fears and uncertainties are over surprisingly fast. Galen hadn’t gone far before collapsing. The trooper escorting Krennic informs him that Galen has been taken back to the facility. 

“Only minor injury, Sir.” 

Krennic is cold and wet but relieved. However, as they turn back Krennic sees the lights of an incoming craft.  _ No cargo deliveries are due.  _ Krennic thinks; he knows and the shape of the incoming craft. It is distinctly a lambda class shuttle. _ Tarkin. _

“I need to be back at the facility immediately.” Krennic snaps. 

“Yes Sir, follow me.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Galen’s skin tingles everywhere as the death troopers pull him through the blast doors of Eadu station. The rush cycled air feels too crisp inside his lungs. And the perpetual squeaking of wet boots echos through the massive corridors. He’s given over to a medical team who assess his vitals before he’s told that he’s clear and to go get cleaned up. 

He flinches at the mechanical whirring of their scans and the garbled chatter of the troopers. Next to the pounding rain the noise is to sudden, unsteady. He decides on a water shower.  If they won’t let him drown his mind out out there then maybe he can still manage it in here. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been inside when the water pressure slows to a trickle and then down to a single melodic drop falling repeatedly onto the tile between Galen’s feet. His own face shines back up at him from the dark polished leather of  _ … _

_ My boots? I’ve forgotten to undress. _ It’s ridiculous like something from an over directed and poorly written holo-film.

“Galen?” Krennic’s voice sounds smaller and more pleading from the other side of the door than it has any right too. 

_ Of course. Of course it would be him. _

He starts punching his override code into the lock on the door. Its beeping is in perfect tandem with the water droplets falling from the shower head. Galen won’t give him the satisfaction.

He storms out of the shower and throws Krennick against the wall with murderous intent. Having slipped in his wet shoes, the push is a little more forceful than Galen meant it to be. They are breast to breast and Galen notices just how much bigger he is than Krennic for the first time in a long time.  

He gulps, hesitates, and it’s enough for Krennic to worm his hand away and pull Galen down by the collar into a kiss.  He turns his face to the side just in time and leans away. Krennic’s hands are free to wipe away the droplets of water that Galen’s hair flung into his eyes.

“You kriffing fool. I was worried about you.”

Galen doesn’t respond.

“What is it?” Krennic asks. “What did I do to prompt this?” 

“Nothing happened.”Galen murmurs. 

“Nothing happened Galen? First the letter and now your little excursion! Nothing happened!?’” He moves to grab Galen’s face. “ I was…”

“Worried. You’ve said.” Galen snaps. 

Krennic looks at him at a loss. 

“You said you were lonely. I shouldn’t have left you here. let me make it up to you.”

Krennic sinks to his knees in the puddle of rainwater that is still spilling off of both of them. His hands are at the fastenings to Galen’s pants when he feels the hand in his hair pulling him away. “Let me, let me.” He repeats gripping onto the backs of Galen's thighs like a lifeline. 

Galen has never seen Orson act so broken. This isn’t what he wanted. He’s not sure how to get his friend back. 

“Orson, no.” He tries. It’s not that he doesn’t want this He is already aching but this won’t fix anything. It’s only a temporary fix. “You look ridiculous.” He can feel Krennic smile where his face is pressed into the flesh of his thigh.  He looks up, takes the bait.

“Have you seen yourself lately?” It’s a quick and trite little quip but it's enough to reestablish them as bantering friends.

“We should get cleaned up.” Galen says offering his hand to help Krennic up. It’s frightening how easily he’s slipped back into sanity because Krennic of all people needs him to.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarkin had not expected to walk in on Dr. Erso in a state of partial undress. He also had never expected to hear Director Krennic singing in the shower. But here he was and it was most fortunate for him to catch the two so off guard. 

“Grand Moff Tarkin.” Galen says while moving to fasten his tunic.  “Your arrival is unexpected.”

“As was the director’s departure.” He responds, giving a quick smile. “A pantoran classic?” Tarkin gestures toward the wash room.

“Yes.” Galen gulps as Krennic attempts a high note that is just out of range. “Not his best selection.” He adds. “Please, have a seat. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“A drink maybe.”

Galen retrieves a bottle of wine, Krennic sent it to him from...Galen doesn’t know or care where. Glasses are filled without further conversation.  He returns and seats himself opposite the moff. The glasses and wine bottle placed on the low table between them.

“Ah, a fine vintage” Tarkin reaches for the bottle to survey the label. “and if I'm not mistaken one of our dear directors selection” Tarkin’s eyebrows might as well have been wiggling  “Does he impose on you often?”

“It’s no trouble, Krennic is an old friend.” Galen answers hastily. It might have been less telling if he had just pretended to choke on the wine. 

“Even so, his best behavior borders on disrespect and...” Tarkin pauses suggestively, “he can be withholding” The wine bottle is returned to the table with Tarkin’s fingers lingering on the opening of its thin neck.

“I haven’t found that to be the case.” Galen shrugs. He doesn’t know what Tarkin is trying to get at but he’s got Orson all wrong. Krennic’s generosity is often obscene and his cordiality sickening.

Krennic chooses that moment to join them, thankfully. Galen is completely out of his area of expertise and can’t shake the feeling that the man sitting across from him is unapologetically predatory. 

“Director, I’m glad to see that you found your most valuable researcher yet again.” Tarkin is the first to make his move.

“Yes, as I recall your shuttle landed shortly after he was retrieved. What brings you to us now?” Krennic asks.

“Merely checking in. Your abrupt departure due to ‘an emergency’ warranted my concern”

“You are so caring.” Krennic says spitefully.

“While I am here I thought I might as well here some of Dr. Erso’s insights on the weapon’s technology.” he turns to Galen. “ With the station almost complete you must be itching for opportunities for further application.”

“Kyber power applications seem to be limitless.” Galen responds.

“Excellent, the bigger the broom, the easier it will be to sweep up troublesome systems.” Tarkin says leaning back. “The whole Lothal sector for instance, I could do without.”

Krennic knows that’s not what Galen meant, not what he wants.

“ _ Limitless energy _ for public use could also be an option.” Krennic suggests. There is only one death star. They need only one and it is his accomplishment alone, with Galen’s help of course.

“Are you expecting peace time Director? Talk like that makes me think that you’d l   rather return to redecorating than help with our glorious cause. You’ve done a marvelous job with this room.” The moff gestures in reference to the numerous gifts he has acquired for Galen to make this metal box more livable. 

“The two of you obviously have much to discuss. I’ll…” Galen moves to stand.

“No,no, Galen. Stay.” Krennic chides. “Just a little banter between friends. “

“Another glass?” Tarkin offers smiling and presumes to fill it before Galen can decline. Krennic notes the rosy flush on his face; Tarkin’s own empty glass and it comes together.

_ He wouldn’t dare.  _

 

“Please, drink.” Tarkin beckons and Galen obeys.  “and have a seat director you are so far away.”

Krennic too obeys though warily.  _ How many glasses has Galen had?  _ Certainly not enough for this reaction. Though with Tarkin here, he wouldn’t be surprised if the wine was tampered with. 

“A glass for you as well?” Tarkin asks

“No. No thankyou.” Krennic corrects himself. Galen wouldn't expect him to be anything but polite, then again Galen wouldn’t expect him to turn down perfectly good wine.

Tarkin is eyeing Galen as he stares almost listlessly beyond them. Krennic has to act.  _ What would shock Galen back to his senses? What would make him run? _

“Grand Moff, how are we to celebrate when the station is completed?” Krennic asks innocently while sliding his hand up the thigh of Tarkin’s standard grey uniform pants. 

All eyes are on Krennic. In a less tense situation he would have liked it. But the Moff’s are icy, calculating how he will be punished for this, and Galen’s are burning with betrayal.

He rises.

“Excuse me, I don’t feel well.” Galen excuses himself promptly.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Galen had stepped away, into the fresher after that. The noise of something falling startles him from where he leans on the sink basin. He hears Orson moan and is tempted to just wait it out. But it's wrong, the last time Orson had lain under him the noises, if he remembers them correctly...which he sure he does, they've fueled to many a fevered dream. Orson's moans were more like soft coos and deep throat growls. What he hears now are sharp gasps punctuated by the noise of shaking furniture. He want’s to make it stop, but he saw Krennic initiate it. Terror and betrayal race through him at the thought of them together, both ambitious and powerful. Everything Krennic ever wanted from him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You made me lose my prey. Shame, looks like it’s leftovers for me again tonight.” Tarkin traces the rim of his empty glass with his fore finger. The slow and gentle movement at odds the sudden grasp Krennic feels around his body.  He’s surprised, Tarkin’s games had always been about humiliating him, slowly and methodically breaking him down. Unthinking, Krennic lashes out.

“My gratitude to Dr. Erso. It's been a long time since you struggled. Refreshing.” Tarkin responds, laughing  at Krennic’s efforts. 

“Let's hope that he inspires just as much spark in the battle station as he does in you and he’ll be here a while yet.” 

And there’s the catch, what Tarkin could do to Galen for failure, even supposed failure, as well as the reminder that Krennic himself would no longer be necessary after the project’s completion.  He’s roughly undressed, no commands this time, and pushed face down onto the low sofa where they had been seated.

This is a fight he can’t win by winning. So, Krennic tries to think of Galen above him, recalls all the soft and fleeting touches exchanged when they were younger. But it hurts more to imagine that this is all that would become of them, just a rough and impersonal fuck.

Instead he imagines Galen in his place. Face down with Tarkin’s boney fingers encircling his wrists. Tarkin would realize, he's too observant not to, that Galen is stalling, that he could be made to work faster given the right punishment. Krennic can never allow this to happen.  Fueled by that decision Krennic lifts his hips to meet the thrusts and summons every image he can to will himself back to full hardness. He knows he's only lived this long half because Tarkin needs someone to blame and half because he's a convenient fuck. 

The longer he can keep this up, direct Tarkin attention away from Galen and the weapon... he doesn't know any more. He's tired and everything hurts.  There is just Galen's name and the schematic of the death star running through his head like they are some sacred secret. He almost has everything he's worked for. But it is soured by the realization that there is nothing next. Only the need to survive to fulfil one purpose, and then? He fears losing the will to live; knows it's being fucked out of him right now.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Galen feels unsteady and doesn’t know how much time he has passed in murky thought  before he moves back towards the living area stumbling. The noises have stopped. He can just make out Orson, lying on his back with one bare arm over his face.  He finds him curled up around a tipping wine bottle, his uniform half pulled on, asleep. There is a drip of come at the corner of Orson's mouth. Galen gently swipes it away with the edge of Orson’s free sleeve before plucking the wine bottle from where it spills onto the white uniform, drop after drop. He sends the slender vessel crashing against the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Finally. I was not feeling this chapter at all and wrote it completely out of order which made my brain go 'Wtf??!?'
> 
> Anyways, I'm heading back to uni Monday so updates will be few and far between unless I get lots done over labor day wk end. (No promises)
> 
> But! If you follow me on tumblr @badsadspacedads I will be resuming the "Cannon Facts" Posts !


	7. Chapter 7

Galen feels krennic’ stubbornness after the night of Tarkin’s visit, his unwillingness to acknowledge what occured. But for Galen, the game has changed. He doesn’t know to what degree Krennic has been forced into the position he’s in now, or how much of it was his own bumbling ambition.  

But Galen does know that with this act he needs the trail of his betrayal to lead Krennic right back to him, on this rain drenched world. It’s their only chance. If the rebelion does choose to rescue him, which he admits, is a slim chance, then he’s going to take Orson with him. 

“Is cargo pilot Rook here?” he asks the security personnel stationed in the hangar. 

“Yes.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarkin had called Krennic to his starship, and away from the death star at the crucial moment of installing the deflector disk. Krennic suspects sabotage.

“Most unfortunate about the security breach on Jedha, Director Krennic.”  Tarkin says, settling his stance  in front of the viewport “After so many setbacks and delays and now this.” He takes a breath and turns towards the director. “We’ve heard word of rumors circulation through the city. Apparently, you’ve lost track of a very talkative cargo pilot.” He passes and circles Krennic’s smaller form  “If the senate gets wind of our project, countless systems will flock to the rebellion.”

“When the battle station is finished, Governor Tarkin, the senate will be of little concern.” Krennic knows that Tarkin knows this. He hates to be called away for such small talk.

“When has become now, Director Krennic, the Emperor will tolerate no further delay.” fixes him with glare and raises his voice “ You have made time an ally of the rebellion!” Krennic feels like a scolded child and the change of tone has brought looks from the bridge crew. Tarkin takes advantage of their staring and clips his path in closer to the director. Their shoulders brush and Krennic feels tarkin's boney hand grope at his hip.

_ So, this is to humiliate me, one final time.  _ Soon Krennic’s accomplishment will outweigh Tarkin’s ability to keep him down.

“I suggest we solve both problems simultaneously with an immediate test of the weapon.” Tarkin adds. “Failure will find you explaining why to a far less patient audience.”

“I will not fail.” Krennic fumes before hastily turning and storming off the bridge. He does not see Tarkin licks the inside of his lips, watching him as he goes.

\-----

Krennic is diverted to Tarkin's quarters before he can make it back to his shuttle. It had been a mistake to even acknowledge the Governors summons, much more so to agree to answer them in person. Tarkin follows a few minutes later and Krennic grows impatient. He lets himself into Tarkin’s room and just stares at the crisply made bed. 

_ This will be the last time I …  _ But his thoughts are interrupted.

“I had planned on seeing you in here and sparing you the embarrassment. But you stormed onto my bridge” Tarkin remarks casually as he slips off his uniform Krennic hears the soft thud of it being thrown over the arm of a chair in the adjacent living area. Of course he would frame this as Krennic’s own fault. There is no end to his gaslighting. Krennic had been called here and he had come, no further instructions had been observed. “Why are you just standing there?” Tarkin adds rounding the corner into the bedroom. In his haste he has already undressed to his under shirt and Krennic hasn’t even removed his cape. 

_ I shouldn’t have to do this.  _ He thinks. Maybe if he was fast enough he could get past Tarkin, escape the skeletal maw of his arms just this once, as a prelude to victory. 

“Krennic…” Tarkin growls. He’s spent to long daydreaming to put his plan into action. Tarkin’s deducing eyes have figured him out.

\-----

“The Emperor is awaiting my report.” Tarkin says in a whisper as he re-joins Krennic on the Death Star’s main bridge. 

“One would hope that he and Lord Vader would have been here for such an occasion.” Krennic snaps back

“I thought it prudent to save you from any potential embarrassment.”

“Your concern’s hardly warranted.”

“If saying it would only make it so.” Tarkin leads projecting his voice to the whole room. He needs Krennic to give the order but not because he expects him to fail.  

“All imperial forces have been evacuated and I stand ready to destroy the entire moon.” Krennic begins adjusting his gloves, no doubt hands itching to strike the Governor.

“That won’t be necessary, we need a statement not a manifesto. The holy city will be enough for today.” 

“Target Jedha city, prepare single reactor ignition.”

“Sir, we’re in position re…”

“Fire!” Krennic says with a wave of his hand. He doesn’t know he’s sealed his own coffin.

“Commence primary ignition!”

“Stand by.”

Tarkin knows that Krennic thinks that the test firing over jedha will elevate his position enough to worm himself out of Tarkin’s grip, he’s wrong. At best it makes the director useless. He had allowed Krennic to be the scapegoat for project stardust’s setbacks. However, Tarkin alone would taste the glory and when he was done he’d have Dr. Erso as well. He entertains the thought of forcing Krennic to watch, as he watches his pretty fireworks display now. Would Erso scream like Krennic does? It’s hard to imagine what extasy would look like in so somber of a man. The moon blooms into fire below before the smoke of it’s afterglow rises up to obscure it.

“Oh, It’s beautiful.”  Krennic interrupts Tarkin's thoughts with his sentiment.

But,  _ Yes, it would be.  _

“I believe I owe you an apology, Director Krennic. Your work exceeds all expectations.”

“And you’ll tell the Emperor as much?” Krennic asks still fiddling with the gloved fingers of his left hand. And here is the catch, even after that raw display of power Krennic still needs him. How at this point does he still think it possible for him to win? And why shouldn’t Tarkin tease him with overdue praise before crushing him?

“I will tell him that his patience with your misadventures has awarded him with a weapon that will bring a swift end to the rebellion.” He congratulates backhandedly. 

“And that, that was only an inkling of it’s destructive potential.” Krennic adds and Tarkin finds it amusing that in his meager triumph krennic now presumes to dictate his report.

“I will tell him that I will be taking control of the weapon I first spoke of years ago, effective immediately.” Tarkin corrects casually.

Krennic laughs a little, can’t bring himself to believe it. Tarkin only smiles down at him the same kind of smile that he gave before taking advantage of Krennic’s body. A smile that was all thin lips but hid the impression of sharp teeth behind it.

“We stand here amidst my achievement! Not yours!” Krennic fumes, shaking his fist like an overgrown toddler in the midst of a tantrum. Tarkin guesses that Krennic thinks the action looks strong. 

“I’m afraid the recent security breaches have  _ laid bare _ your inadequacies as a military director.” Tarkin states calmly moving forward to use the mere presence of his height against the Director, the way teachers intimidate their students into correct behavior through proximity control.

“The breaches have been filled. Jedha has been silenced.” Krennic responds trying to reign in his tone. It’s undermined by his loss of control over is loose accent. 

“Do you think this pilot acted alone? He was dispatched from the installation on Eadu, Galen Erso’s facility.” He watches Krennic blink back his shock. Tarkin’s mention of Galen is a personal threat as well as a fact.   

“We’ll see about this.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Galen regrets everything. The slim chance that Krennic would defect with him wasn’t worth anyone else’s lives. But Krennic had to have known, and proceeded to force himself into disbelief. Maybe he thought that he could still save Galen from the treason charges. Maybe this was just a punishment. Gallen kneels still feeling the sting of Krennic’s back hand. He can smell his engineers corpses smoldering behind him, even through the rain. Why had he thought that Krennic’s monstrosity would have somehow been undone by an even greater evil? How had Galen fooled himself into believing that they were on the same side?

“How do I know the weapon is complete? Let me share with you some details:Jedha, Saw Guerra, His band of fanatics, Their holy city, the last reminder of the jedi; Gone.” Krennic counts the items out on his fingers. He hadn’t listed Jyn. But then he didn't know that she might  have been there. And he hadn’t listed himself, lost to the madness of power every bit as much as his stardust was.

“And did Tarkin fuck you before or after it was done?” He spits out. Galen tastes the blood dribbling past his lips and knows despite all the pain he still, for the sake of his own conscience has to try. “You’ll never win.” He says “Not from the inside.” 

\-----

Galen is asking him to defect. But in that moment Krennic cannot fathom a life without the glory of the death star. This project has twisted him and even though everything is spiraling out of his control he needs to win, but that victory would be hollow without Galen at his side. 

“Galen, there’s something I have to tell you.” He says. He hates to but only this would be enough to bring Galen back to him now. “Lyra is alive, held somewhere on Coruscant. If we can get rid of Tarkin, If the Emperor were to award us…”

Krennic was not ready for Galen’s rage, for his friends face to contort into some animal like snarl, for hands to grasp at his throat and try vainly to rip his voice loose as punishment for even speaking her name. Galen doesn’t believe him. 

\-----

Eadu base’s proximity alarm sounds.  And mixed with the comotion, the roar of approaching ships and the constant patter of the rain is a single cry. 

“Father!”

The explosion forces Galen and Krennic apart. Galen sees her before he can hear her again. His ears ring so much that he’s afraid something has rattled loose in his head. But It’s Jyn. It really is Jyn dashing forward to embrace him where he lays crumpled against the landing platform.  

“Papa! Papa. It’s me. It’s Jyn.” She says cupping Galen's face in her hands. She’s soaked. Icy drops of eadu rain falling from her dark hair. 

“Jyn, my stardust.”

“I’ve seen your message, I’ve seen it.” She repeats. Jyn being here is the last thing Gallen wanted and something he’d never dared to hope for.

“Jyn! Dr. Erso! We’ve gotta go!” a man calls out from the back of the platform. 

“It must be destroyed.” Galen says as he sits up head still spinning. 

“Yes,” Jyn answers rising and offering her hand. “ We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been so super long since this was updated but I plan to be finished within the week!


	8. Chapter 8

“Director, we’ve received a transmission. You’ve been ordered to Mustafar. Lord Vader wants to speak to you.”

So, Tarkin has finally decided to get rid of him? It was well known that Vader acted as the emperor's enforcer and executioner. But he was rumored to be in league with Tarkin as well. He shudders. The sith was known to punish failure swiftly. It was even rumored that some officers had been strangled by the dark lords mystic power. Dead at the lift of a finger. 

He needed a plan. He could tell the truth.  _ The traitor Galen Erso escaped. Rebel squadrons overwhelmed Eadu base and were successful in his extraction.  _ Krennic thinks. But what then? 

Their landing approach on mustafar is shrouded by a veil of smoke before the hellscape is unleashed. There is nothing but charred peaks and rivers of lava for miles, save Vader’s fortress. Dark as the scorched ground below it seems to rise naturally from the planets tortured surface. But it is more honed than any of the jagged cliffs Krennic sees in the distance. This place, and the man who created it were created with a purpose. 

He likes to think that Mustafar might be a representation of what the death star could do to worlds. But he doesn’t see himself in it. And when he looks for Galen all his mind can conjure up is the image of his friend simultaneously drowning and burning alive in one of the molten rivers. 

Galen had never been made of fire, some purer energy coursed through his veins. Krennic wasn’t even sure it was liquid. Galen’s spirit was immovable, goals and decisions that he had set in their boyhood still stood. And yet Galen’s power was revealed in the light, like one of his beloved crystals. Krennic wants him back more than anything. Tarkin can take the kriffing death star. He wants Galen to live. And that means he has to lie.

This is his last gamble. He feels ridiculous, like some love struck white knight about to sell his soul to a witch in exchange for a hope.But why not? he has nothing left to lose.

 

The interior of the fortress reminds him of geonosian architecture, the repeating panels of rust brown metal tilted and slatted together like on of their hives. It must be a relic from the war, or built shortly after, possibly by the same insectoid hands that built the death stars deflector dish. A large door widens at the opposite end of the platformed hall, another holdover from the geonosians, such an open air plan could not be useful without wings. 

Vader enters in a cloud of white steam.

“Director Krennic.” Vader says in acknowledgement. Krennic nods and returns the unembellished greeting.

“Lord Vader.” 

“You seem unsettled.” Vader points out, honest and to the point. Not a game Krennic plays very often

“No, just pressed for time. I have a great many things to attend to.” He tries, surely Vader is aware that being towered over by a masked butcher is a little more than unsettling.

“My apologies,” Vader seethes “You do have a great many things to explain.” 

“I delivered the weapon the emperor desired but the rebellion infiltrated the facility on Eadu and captured Galen Erso.” he says aloud but he knows that Galen went willingly. “Our defenses were overrun…” Krennic feels his voice die in his throat and the nearly crushing pressure.

“No.” Lord Vader answers letting a pregnant pause drift between the negation and his following accusation “You let him go.”  Vader does not release his hold on Krennic's throat until the director has dropped to his knees “ Tell me director, what will he do next?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Galen is swept away by rebel intelligence upon arrival to Yavin base, much to Jyn’s dismay.  Cassian watched them huddle together on the way back, both of their star flecked eyes filled with tears. He had watched them with a selfish jealousy. Which is why he’d been so easily guilted into doing this stupid sentimental thing. 

It worries him how easy it is to get into Yavin’s detention block and find Galen unnoticed. 

“Jyn sent me to give you this.” He says creeping up to the bars of the cell and dangling the pendant through them. Galen clasps it in his hand. 

“She’s going.”  Galen says more than asks. Maybe, Jyn had been hotheaded even in her young years when Galen had her. 

“Yes,” Cassian answers, leaning in. “But it’s a secret, the council will not approve the mission. They would prefer you testify in the senate.”

“There’s not time for that. It must be destroyed.” Galen says desperately. Cassian nods and turns to leave but Galen grasps onto his forearm tightly. “And Jyn,” he begins. 

“I’ll look after her.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My gratitude Lord Vader for returning my pet to me.” Tarkin exhales in mock sadness as Krennic is shoved to his knees on the bridge of the Executrix.

“He has proven most uncooperative.” Lord Vader reports. Tarkin takes it as permission to address Krennic directly. 

“Lying to your superior,  collaboration with the enemy, You don’t know how hard it was for me to sign the order for your termination, Krennic.” Tarkin looks down at him but there is no pity for his  dejected state.  Tarkin's voice mellows “But were you to name Erso’s next target maybe we could do something about that.” But that would mean putting Galen in the line of danger. Why hadn’t he seen before how much trouble, how much pain he brought to his friend? 

“Go to hell you foul son of a…” he’s cut off by a sharp kick to the stomach.

“Mind your manners, Krennic.” he says before turning to lord Vader. “If he’s as useless as you say then I suggest we head to Scariff, It’s possible Dr Erso’s transmision archive will hold the clue that we need.”

_ No, not Scarif. _ If Galen were to choose he’s wipe out any trace of the monstrosity they’ve built and Scarif holds the original plans for the Death star. But Krennic can’t object, not yet. Tarkin gives a few other mundane orders to prepare them for hyperspace.

“And have this colaborator spaced.” he finally adds. “Unless, of course you’d like the honors lord Vader?” The sith lord doesn't even eye his crumpled form and Tarkin motions for two guards to take him away.

“Wait!” Krennic protests as they try to get him to stand. He settles himself solidly against the deck plates and shifts forward trying to reach out to Tarkin. “Wilhuff,” he pleads, even though they never used first names, despite all the kriffing they’d done. “I was coerced, Erso wanted control of this battle station for the rebellion. He planned to do that through me!” Krennic lies. “Now that he’s lost, he’ll need another superweapon. The rebel forces will strike at Endor.” This earns him another slap.

“What do you know of Endor.” Tarkin hisses through his sharp teeth. 

\-----

Tarkin has decided to send him to coruscant for safe keeping with 

‘Erso’s other pet’.  Krennic considers his outlook with Tarkin headed in the wrong direction he has maybe a few days before they realize that he’s lied to them and can retaliate. Though seeing Lyra isn’t exactly what he would choose to do with little time he has left it’s something. Maybe he can tell her that Galen and their daughter are alive. He needs some objective to keep him going other than waiting patiently for his own death.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jyn returns unscathed but also not entirely successful. Their cargo ship had been immobilized by the imperial fleet as they were trying to make the jump to hyperspace. Luckily rebellion ships had been enroute to them. They were rescued and the plans were handed up the chain of command. Making it as far as some princess before she was captured. But not all hope was lost, the rebellion had word of the empire vainly searching tatooine for them. It was unlikely they would be found in that sandbox.

They are not defeated, not yet. Galen watches Jyn exit the rebel shuttle with the same man who had visited his cell. His arm is around her and they smile sadly at each other before turning toward the compound. A KY class imperial droid looks back and forth between them, confused? Or flat out annoyed Galen couldn’t tell. But he does know that KY’s aren’t programed for that kind of behavior. Galen’s eyes flick back to the man holding his daughter.  _ Who is he? _ Galen guesses he probably shouldn’t have a say in what Jyn does with her life. But he seems kind enough. His thoughts stray to Krennic though.  _ I hope Jyn has better taste in men than I do. Or her mother did.  _  Maybe she got lucky. They’re due for some luck.

“Galen!” Bodhi shouts noticing him immediately unlike the pair of lovers, Jyn locks eyes with him briefly a strange expression passing her face. The man turns around. Bodhi, unconcerned, quickly passes them.  He’s followed by two others who seem gruff and keep their distance. 

“So, you didn’t run into much trouble on Scarif?” Galen asks as Bodhi approaches.

“Yeah It’s funny actually, almost like they were looking the other way for most of it” He seems upbeat despite the loss of the cargo shuttle.

The platform is starting to crowd now. There’s an arival over at the other end. A personnel carrier zips past them. 

“I’ve never seen this much green all at once before!” one of the passengers blurts. “Don’t get too excited now kid there’s a million other floating rocks like this one.” 

Bodhi has been called away. Galen supposes he could have followed. But there is so much activity and life here. He could drown in it. 

Amidst the refueling and preparations. A pair of friends are arguing each trying to get the other to go his way: Leave, stay.

“Take care of yourself. It’s the only thing you’re good at!” 

The backhanded care and the itself argument reminds Galen of Krennic and himself years ago. He had been the one to want to run.

“Dr. Erso, our fighter pilots are ready for your briefing.” someone calls. It’s time to set his past mistakes right. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orson Krennic can’t run, there is no place to go. 

It had take a few hours for Lyra to believe it but it’s him sitting just a few tables down in the prison’s mess hall. That scheming coward that tore her family apart. She wants to rip his smirking face off. But first she needs to hear him say it. ‘ _ I’m an egomaniacal coward with no ideas of my own so I screwed your husband in the head and refuse to let him have anything good that doesn’t benefit me.”  _ Or something like it. Probably shorter. Lyra isn’t feeling very patient these days

She corners him in one of the dead end halls trying to escape the throng of prisoners exiting the mess. He presses his head against one of the durasteel walls and tucks his arms around his sides. She’s caught him alone and trying to lick his wounds. This isn’t the proud creature she remembers. No fancy uniform er what little power he possessed in his own form. No Krennic’s way was to achieve through the possession of things and on occasion other people. He had made a mistake in choosing her husband. 

She moves in and throws herself at him She lands more punches than she expected and wrestles him to the floor.  Her words are less elegant that how she fantasized them. “Snake!” She spits.”Damn you Damn you for taking him, for taking everything!” The word are hollow and she’s doing everything she can to sneer through the sobs in her throat. She thought that this would make it better, she’d spent so much time, had even more fantasies about this moment than the moment of her reunion with her family. She realizes,  _ It’s because this is attainable, this is low.  _ And then Krennic speaks through the blood welling in his mouth,

“Lyra,” He rasps  “Galen is alive and so is your child.”

“Liar!”  She yells, punching him again.

“No, no they are with the rebels trying to destroy the weapon!”

“And your here as punishment then, for not keeping my husband on a tight enough leash, for not fucking enough of his free will out of him with your bloody forked tongue.” She says applying even more pressure to his throat. And something strange happens Orson’s grip on her hands relaxes, his eyes glaze over. Lyra knows she hasn’t killed him, it hasn’t been long enough. Suddenly he tenses and screams. Lyra slaps one hand over his mouth to silence him.  Orson is shaking, begging and saying some pretty damning things. Lyra thinks she knows what this is. But she doesn’t want to believe it.

“Tell me what you’ve done!” She says shaking him. She doesn’t care what kind of abuse he’s endured. She needs to hear his confession so that when she kills him her revenge will be just.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Krennic can feel Tarkin’s weight above him, and the crushing pressure around his neck. 

_ Please, no. _

“No. no… no.” he gasps. “I sent the imperial fleet running in the wrong direction so that Dr. Erso could complete his mission safely.” He admits. Tarkin doesn’t strike him, doesn't caress his body possessively.  _ Because it’s not him. I just had a flashback under kriffing Lyra Erso. Shit. _

“So then, You’re with the rebellion” Lyra asks pulling back a little more. It’s a stretch, but the air feels so good in his lungs.

_ I’m with your husband.  _ He thinks.

“Yeah, I’m with the rebellion. I’m with the rebellion.” 

Lyra rolls off of him and sits cross legged. For a long time she says nothing and considers leaving krennic shaken and bloody on the floor.

She doesn’t believe him. She needs the truth. Ambition like Krennic’s doesn't suddenly betray itself because of the infatuation he has with Galen. 

“Your little panic that wasn’t from, Galen didn’t…” She questions. 

“No! No… he is always gentle with m…” he trails off the realization hitting him. Lyra rolls her head and huffs. Kennic hadn’t even thought about slandering Galen even if it meant revealing adultery to a person who had just been attempting to strangle him.

“What does it matter he probably thought I was dead,” she says pitifully.

Orson tries to imagine a life after this. A life without Galen. Lyra’s words echo back to him ‘ _ what does it matter’ _ …  _ i’ll probably be dead _ . 

“Tell me,”  she continues. She’s tearing up from allowing herself to think of him. Krennic knows, It’s hard enough to stay alive in this place without being haunted by love you can never again have. “Tell me how he is, you… you’dve taken good care of him. Made sure he eats.” That's not the entire story but he nods. Galen’s appetite was nonexistent he had had put the man on a meal schedule. 

“We looked out for each other.” 

“And Jyn?” He tells her what little details he knows and trails off again.

“And the man, the Governor, Moff whatever he is that put me here. Tell me he’s dead.” She demands. Krennic feels his blood go cold even thinking about Tarkin. “He’s the one.” Lyra whispers knowingly.”Who did this to you” she clarifies. 

_ Damn this woman's intuition.  _ Krennic thinks, they're having a conversation and yet he’s barely saie a word. It’s not a wonder that Galen, stunted, awkward, always somewhere deep in that brain of his, loves her. She’s like a breath of air at the bottom of an abyss. 

“did you notice?” She asks, smiling playfully to herself  “His hand… was it broken?” She asks excitedly “it was a while ago, but I did it.” she’s so proud.

Krennic smiles at her child like glee. “ Yes, I did notice. He sent me away for about a month because I wouldn’t stop making jokes” Lyra loses it. “Ah yes, your crookedness, would you like me to hold my own leash sir?  And things of that sort” he gives her as a sampling. 

“Orson,” she says finally still winded and clutching at her sides, he doesn’t think he has ever heard his first name pass her lips before. “You're a rebel.”

He hadn’t know he could still feel pride.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m so proud of you Jyn.” Galen says as they watch the death star burst in Endor’s sky. With Tarkin and Krennic on board. Galen could say that it felt good and it did. If only the urge to collect up every speck of ash in hopes that one of them was a piece of Orson hadn’t soured the victory. He wonder’s exactly how long it took for the chain reaction to be complete, if he had the time to recognize Galen’s betrayal, a brief moment where he had the time to contemplate his life and the life they could have had away from all this.

The moment of victory is fleeting, just a sigh of relief for these rebels. Evacuation procedures begin, the few brave pilots who survived are commended. Jyn flits away from his arms and into Captain Cassian Andor’s.

He’s alone. He hasn’t planned for this.


	9. Chapter 9

Life in prison is shit. There aren’t enough guards and the ones that are present are little better than the inmates. Only the inmates aren’t armed. Krennic had never realized just how much smaller than average he was until now. There have been so many times when Lyra has pulled him out of a losing fight.  _ ‘It’s because you still think you’re bigger than you are,’  _ she reminds him every time. 

Almost every time, there are times when it’s already too late and he has to take the beating. Times when afterward it doesn’t seem quite over and a familiar pair of thin phantom hands prod at his already bruised flesh. Then she finds it in her heart to be good to him. Well, as good as it gets in this place. ‘ _ You can’t stay on the floor Orson. You’ll be trampled. _ ’ She’s pragmatic in her caring. He’s grateful.

He spends a long time trying to make a drawing of Jyn for her. She’s softened up to him since her first attempt at murder, yes. But there is still always a lingering sharpness in her eyes when she speaks to him. A gift might sweeten what he has to tell her.

“He knows, Galen knows that you’re here, I told him.” He mentions while slipping her the paper.  “only, I dont think he believed me.”

“He always believed you.” She spits back.

“He shouldn’t have.” 

She doesn’t ask how long he’s known and he’s grateful. It’s enough to be buried in this subterranean prison complex. How could he tell her about her own mock grave when she’s already so low. Would Galen even have the desire to search for her after closure had been given to him all those years ago? Was Galen even alive to care?

Lyra flattens the picture against her chest. Looks away and forcefully thrusts out one of her hands toward him. He’s confused at first as to what she wants him to do with it. He has nothing else to give her, accept maybe lies. Even those have become harder for him to conjure up. But her palm is downturned and he can hear her shortened breaths as she tries to stifle her weeping.

He takes her hand in both of his own.

Month’s pass like this. The hate and space between them gradually declining along with their spirits. Years pass and they forget that there is un-holiness in the tangling of their limbs.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thier jump from hyperspace reveals it. Still skeletal though far from the early stages of construction, the second death star looms in the distance above endor. It’s frightfully similar to the first time Orson had shown him the first one, gloating with confidence while Galen nursed the reality that everything he loved had been taken away. 

He watches the death star explode and dissipate alone this time. Jyn somewhere on the moon was looking up at the same sight, Cassian's arms wrapped tightly around her. It’s not that he hasn’t found a place and purpose in the rebellion, they are constantly running into problems that could use his expertise. He just still can’t wrap his head around how he has gotten here. There is no familiar thread of consistency designed to stitch straight his fate, no program, no war machine. 

It’s as if the last few decades of his life have dissipated along with the death stars, Jyn’s childhood, and even his memories of Lyra. He tries to recall them from time to time for Jyn’s sake. She never would know her mother. 

Galen guesses that the fatigue he feels is the grief he’s held back for so long, the interest on it multiplied exponentially. That and he needs to know: were Orson’s last words to him true? Or another lie designed to lure him deeper into the imperial grip?

He needs to go to coruscant, to Lyra’s grave.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It isn’t clear what’s happening when the power goes out.  Lyra grips his hand in the darkened corridor and he pulls her towards the nearest wall. If his memory serves they just passed on of the smaller intersections that connect the bunks to the mess. The thud of boots echos down the hall and a squad of guards pass them. The light of their headlamps illuminating their faces.

“Have you seen anything like this before?” Krennic asks, wary.

“No.” she answers. “I don’t think we should go back to our bunks”

“Where then?”

An explosion deafens out her answer, followed by screams, and gunfire in the direction the patrol had gone. Another explosion, this one close enough to shake dust loose from the ceiling  He presses Lyra into a corner and sinks down pulling her with him. The same patrol that passed them retreats back to the junction, fewer in number. They fire on any inmate in their way. 

“We have to get out of here.” Lyra whispers

“I know.” He says “The mess has loading docks, it’s the closest escape route”

“It’s too open.” A new throng of bodies is heading toward them in the darkness. They have to make a decision. “Stay still.” Lyra instructs, gripping at his biceps. The group passes them and stops at the junction trying to decide which way to go. 

“This is the deadest jailbreak I’ve ever been to, Sylasi.” One of them complains. 

“Rebels.” Lyra whispers. 

“Who’s there!”

“Me! an inmate.” Lyra answers pulling herself up and into one of their lights. Orson tries to hold her back, prays she doesn’t mention him, or Galen or anything really. 

“Which way to the administrative offices?”

“You take this hall to your left here and then it’s a right when you come to the next crossing.”

“Ok, let’s move.” the voice directs. “And you...inmate”

“Lyra.” She corrects.

“Lyra, if you turn around and go down that hall behind you, You’ll find a brand new way to get out of this dump.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Emperor is dead. They found out upon pulling themselves through the wrecked prison walls. The r ioting and rejoicing streets compared to the festival that gave Galen and Jyn a chance to escape so many years ago. Lyra is in love with the sun even the pale grayness of it that filters through the smoke overhead. She closes her eyes and feels it on her face.

“We need to go.” Orson says 

“Where?” she asks, her eyes still closed.

“I have an idea.”

\-----

Krennic’s ideas are always shit. Lyra doesn’t know what else she expected. 

“Orson, wait.” she calls as he crosses the skybridge.

“Come on we’re almost there.” of course he thinks nothing of it.

“I know where you’re taking me.”Lyra says as she plants her feet.  “But I can’t.” one more step and she could fall again and lose everything.

“Come on Lyra, Galen will look at your apartment when he comes for you.You know he would.” Orson argues. “I even had it declared a crime scene.” He tempts. “All your things should still be there.”

“I can’t” She says. All she can think of is the abyss in front of her, the nausea, the falling feeling. And she can’t find the words to tell Orson what she is scared of. Orson walks back to her and clasps her around the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?”

“The bridge.” She whispers. It’s just like the one she fell from the night that galen and Jyn escaped. She can’t cross it. She’ll fall. She’ll wake up in that cursed prison again. She can’t live the remainder of her life out in such loneliness, hopelessness. Not again.

“Look. Look at me.” Orson chides. “I’ve got you.” He slips one hand around her waist and holds her hand with the other. Together they step out onto the narrow bridge. 

“I’m going to close my eyes.” Lyra says.

“I won’t let you fall.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They make it to the apartment. Krennic is relieved when the coded lock still works. Aside from the thick layer of dust it’s the same as when he was last here. Then he had been looking for clues as to where Galen had hidden himself. 

Lyra wanders off to change and wash up. And Krennic is left wondering what to do. He can’t bring himself to go through Galen’s clothes. But the office is somewhere he’d been welcome before. Is it too much to hope that Galen had stashed a bottle of wine?

Instead he finds what’s left of Galen’s notes. Abstract drawings done chiefly for the sake of feeling pen on paper. Each probably made according to indecipherable rules drawn up in Galen’s idle mind. And there are Jyn’s drawings too. The one Orson lingers on is clearly of Galen. It has his messy hair and his tired eyes and his big thoughts spiraling around him in 8 layers of childishly scribble crayon.

Silently, Lyra comes to rest her chin on his shoulder, hugging him from behind. She kisses his neck and he lets her slip the drawing out of his hands. She holds it up against the light of the dust covered window. He’d let her take Galen from him. He shakes his head as he realizes that Galen would inevitably come for her, and not for him. 

Lyra tips the paper towards the dim window light and gently blows the dust from the paper. The pale reflection of the white paper under her chin makes her face glow. She smiles at stickfigure Galen fondly, perhaps in pride of her daughter’s handiwork. She looks up at him and smiles. He smiles back even though his gut is sinking.

Orson would lose two loves in the same instant.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The grave is how he remembers it. Simple, nondescript, Just Lyra’s maiden name set into the stone. He was grateful when Cassian and K2 decided they would be accompanying him and Jyn to Coruscant. Galen wasn’t sure how much help he’d be if Jyn needed to break down. And K2 made bringing the instruments he needed to scan the plot much more discrete. Galen had installed them during the trip through hyperspace and they had discussed what would happen in the event of both instances. Galen didn’t want to get Jyn’s hopes up only for them to find just another grave. 

They stand there silently until Jyn breaks and turns to Cassian. He holds her and as soon as Galen can tell that her cries are being muffled by Cassian’s shoulder Galen looks at K2. The droid shakes his head slowly and deliberately, his servos surprisingly loud. There is no body, it’s an empty grave.

“Since when do you shake your head?! And why now! Jyn can cry if she wants too!” Cassian says firmly. 

“I am only doing as i was instructed.” K2 answers calmly. Galen can hear the continuation of the argument in the distance but only just so. He’s passed out of range b the time they understand what’s happening.

All Imperial facilities on Coruscant had been raided during the riots following the emperor's death. Including high security prisons. If Lyra had escaped Galen has an idea of where she might go. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They follow Galen through the maze of Coruscant skywalks. The throngs of people become more dense as the near residential areas. But K’s height helps guide them through. At last they stop at a door in an apartment tower. Galen fiddles, hits the chime and waits. 

“What is this?” Jyn asks. “I think I remember this place.”

She doesn’t get the chance to have an answer. The door opens. 

“Galen?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Galen?” Krennic’s voice is desperate and afraid as Galen stares down at him in shock.

“Galen!” Lyra screams and throws herself past Krennic and  into his arms. Galen feels his eyes prickling and he grips her tightly until she moves to embrace Jyn. Krennic moves aside to let Galen in. 

_ What is this? Why is he here? _ Galen thinks. He takes stock of this man that has forever changed his life, against his will, without his permission, by whatever means necessary. 

“Get out.” Galen decides. He has what he is due and he doesn’t want to be Krennic’s plaything anymore.

“Galen no.” Lyra says looking at him in confusion and then at Krennic, who is shrinking in on himself. He’s much thinner than Galen remembers and cheaply dressed. Galen recognizes some of his own clothes from years ago hanging oversized on Orson’s body. If Galen hadn’t felt distinctly usurped then it would have been endearing.

“Lyra, I lied to you about working for the rebellion.” Krennic confesses. She turns livid but holds back. It doesn’t all quite make sense.

“Then why did Tarkin send you to prison with me? Why did he hurt you? What about the mission, the plans Galen needed to destroy?!”

“I did give Tarkin bad information.”

“That sent him halfway across the galaxy in the wrong direction?” Lyra asks.

He nods furiously.

“Why?’ Galen asks, moving in to crowd Krennic. “Why would you have misled Tarkin?”

“He wanted to go to Scarrif and I… I couldn’t risk that he’d hurt you.” 

It seems absurd to think of Krennic protecting him looking at him now. Galen has him half pressed up against the wall.

“I betrayed you and out project.” Galen whispers.

“I loved you more.” Krennic admits and Galen pulls away, he’s wanted this in his most impossible dreams. And now he can’t have him. How dare Krennic complicate their happy ending. But Lyra, knowing, gently clasps on to one of his hands and speaks.

“Galen, He stays.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I want to suck his dick” Krennic whispers from his side of the bed. Galen is asleep between them.

“I could watch that” Lyra responds snaking an arm around Galen's neck over his shoulder and down to rub at his chest. Galen exhales heavily in his sleep, contented. Orson makes quick work of the blanket and his trousers. And pauses to look at Lyra before lapping at the head of Galen's cock. Her other hand wanders below her own waist and Orson doesn't look away as he sinks down. A few minutes of Orson sucking and Lyra whispering softly in his ear wake Galen. Who, surprised, cums possibly just by the sight of his cock disappearing down Orson's throat.  Lyra is amused by his reaction and proceeds to shame him. Galen's arm is over his face and he’s blushing. His cock now slowly shrinking a few errant beads of cum drip from it to Orson's chin.

"You both are going to wear me out." He's not upset really just still coming to terms with the fact that he has two demanding lovers.

"We won't." Lyra counters. Her hand leaving Galen's chest to stroke at Orson's chin. She draws him up to her kisses Galen's spend out of his mouth and adds for good measure "we’ll just have take care of ourselves"

Galen is wide eyed at the prospect. After Orson had confessed that he never had legitimately been working for the rebellion He had thought Lyra would be done with him. When she said Orson could stay Galen thought he might end up being the glue holding their relationship together. But obviously Orson and Lyra have better plans. She rolls her hips against Orson's and moans. His head falls against her shoulder and he kisses at her neck.

Galen is enraptured afraid to touch and break what surely must be an illusion, the two of people he loves most in the galaxy are going to fuck each other in front of him.  Lyra breaks his train of thought. While they still rut together she calls to him.

"Galen?" Her eyes are glassy, dilate even more as he looks into them. "Galen."  She repeats. "Help Orson with his pants." She directs. No, he thinks as he snaps into action. No... he is certainly not the only glue in this relationship. There is plenty of that to go around.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They settle into something domestic. Galen learns that Orson feels safe in big sweaters something about the extra layer make him feel safe and they are more permissible than the damned cape. Lyra hate walking any bridge alone. It’s understandable these manifestations of their scars. And Galen wonders about more peaceful circumstances. What would happen if their lives had gone to plan? But he decides that a simple life could have never brought them to this equation.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Krennic gets his sense of humor back. It's something that Jyn shares, far exceeds her parents understanding. Must be something she picked up from Saw.  It’s strange for Orson strange to see himself in her with Lyra's face and Galen's eyes, but then... it's not. The same love and chaos that made her has shaped him. She is a crystal grown under pressure while he is more of a stone tumbled smooth over time. Despite the differences they belong.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jyn has more than she ever had or hoped for. Both parents plus an extra, her boyfriend, currently making dinner with mom for them. He was the only one yet to be banned from the kitchen. But it want her fault, she hadn't known it was even possible to set the dishwasher on fire. 

"I estimate that our chances of Continuing happy life life as a familial unit are 98.2%.” K2 states.  He pauses to swivel his head in the direction of the kitchen  “though they would be higher if Cassian learned to peel the mellooruns with knife pointing away from himself.”

As if on cue there is a resounding  _ kriff! _ in the kitchen. It’s followed by Lyra's gentle voice.

“here, let me see... you'll be alright love.”

Certain that Cassian is alright they laugh at the coincidence.

Jyn in a moment of sobriety sees the opportunity to sum up the measure of her life "We all learn from our mistakes!" She yells. Cassian’s sigh is audible.  A faint smile plays at Jyn’s lips as she listens to her mother tut over her boyfriend. She looks up at her fathers.  Trite as it is, she believes it. How else could they have come this far? K2 breaks her out of her reverie 

"Pazzak!"

“No. No, this is the last time I lose to a droid. Your looking at the cards you splindely thing! Sit on the floor.” Krennic argues.

“I am not spindly! My frame is made from high grade durasteel.” K2 protests.

Jyn has a moment of eye contact with Galen. While the other two players are arguing she steals a cereal chip from their betting pot. Jyn tosses it up and into her mouth. Galen smiles at her. It's sugar coated yes. And she doesn't know how they'll be in the future. But today life is peaceful. She bites down on the dry sweetness and the rest is stardust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Thank you, anyone who has been following this all the way through! 
> 
> Especially, Ashangel101010 I feel like I have been writing this just for you, because you've commented on every chapter, sometimes even more than once. I had a lot on irl set backs that made writing this take a long time. And I'm so grateful that I didn't lose you because honestly, otherwise this would not have gotten done. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed! and I plan to write some smaller fair tale inspired au's for this pairing in the future.


End file.
